Tyger
by CCWhite
Summary: Oneshot. Dean's true character


Tiger

By

Hermitme

June 10, 2007

Disclaimer: Don't own them, want to, but, oh well, I want to win the lotto also

TheTyger (from Songs of Experience) is a poem by William Blake

_Tyger Tyger burning bright _

_In the forests of the night,_

_What immortal hand or eye_

_Could frame thy fearful symmetry?_

He had been born in a good home, with two loving parents who doted on him, scolded him when he needed it, baked him cookies and supplied him with love and a baby brother that he doted on. His room was full of toys and his days were full of sun and the smells of sweet summer and warm winters. He lived in a world of Winnie the Pooh, Big Bird and his loveable Cookie Monster. He learned to walk at seven months, talk at eight months and by the time he was two, he could add simple numbers and use expressive words that sounded so strange coming from someone so young. He was his parents' pride and joy and at age four his baby brother's constant companion.

_In what distant deeps or skies_

_Burnt the fire of thine eyes?_

_On what wings dare he aspire?_

_What the hand dare sieze the fire?_

At five years of age the young boy had learned a new language, one that was only spoken within his mind, deep within the core of his being, and no one was allowed in. Not his daddy, not even Sammy. For this deep language was the language of love and trust that he could no longer hear, could no longer recognize. His days were filled with nightmares, his nights were filled with fears and his sleep was haunted by monsters that took away mommies and left daddies empty shells of the loving and caring men they once used to be. He saw fires burning his home, his mommy, his daddy and even his baby brother. Although he woke up to realize it was only a dream, that daddy and Sammy were still here, he could never let go of the fear the one day they too would be gone and he wouldn't be able to stop it, just like he couldn't stop the fire monster that took away his mom. So every day he would listen to his daddy and do what daddy said, and every night he would sleep in Sammy's crib, to make sure that if the monster came, he would be able to protect his baby brother.

_And what shoulder, and what art_

_Could twist the sinews of thy heart?_

_And when thy heart began to beat,_

_What dread hand? and what dread feet?_

His daddy taught him about guns and he could see the pride in the older man's eyes when he hit every target at the young age of six. He knew he had made his father proud that day and from then on he practiced hard and faithfully, he learned to fight, learned to walk without noise, to listen for sounds that weren't there, to see things that would escape other's eyes and to use all his five senses beyond ordinary limits, and to stretch them further. His aim was perfect, and his instincts flawless. He heard and saw what normal people never bothered with, he fought with creatures that others didn't believe in and he faced his battles with blood, muscles and wit, but he won them, and he saw the pride in his father's eyes and pushed himself further, because he knew he would be the best in this battle.

_What the hammer? what the chain?_

_In what furnace was thy brain?_

_What the anvil? what dread grasp_

_Dare its deadly terrors clasp?_

When he was seventeen he was caught in a bear trap. His ankle bitten deep by the metal teeth, his blood pooling, drawing the attention of the beast they were hunting, his own teeth gnashing against each other as he kept his pain quiet. It wasn't easy pulling the trap apart and removing his shattered foot from it, nor was it easy to stand when he saw the werewolf coming forth, saliva drooling, yellow eyes blazing, and didn't that almost look like a smile on it face, evil, triumphant, and gloating. So sure was the werebeast that it never bothered to look past the fear in the young green eyes, and so missed the deadly intent, the need to undo the past, the hatred for that which didn't belong and would therefore have to be destroyed. With one leap the beast was on the young man, only to feel the sharp pain of the silver knife imbedded in its heart, and the boy had never even flinched. His father found him two hours later, passed out, but with a small smile on his face breaking through the fevered pain.

_When the stars threw down their spears,_

_And watered heaven with their tears,_

_Did he smile his work to see?_

_Did he who made the Lamb make thee?_

By the time he was twenty-six and ready for to go get his brother he had fifty notches on his belt for kills he made alone, for monsters burned, knifed, shot, beheaded and blasted back into hell. He was a silent legend. It would come to him in due time, as he and his brother, his friend, his protégé would travel around America to fulfill their vocation of hunting evil and searching for the one beast that had set them on this course. The yellow-eyed being that would regret the day it targeted the Winchesters. His father had trained him to protect himself, and he had trained himself to be better, stronger and smarter so he could protect his brother. His eyes burned green, and his body walked confidently toward their fate without hesitation, because he was what life had made him and he never backed away from a challenge.

_Tyger! Tyger! burning bright_

_In the forests of the night,_

_What immortal hand or eye_

_Dare frame they fearful summetry?_

The yellowed eyed demon never saw him coming. To the beast, this one was just a tool to be used to get to the one it truly wanted, Sam, the younger, the psychic, the one fed the demon blood. It was Sam that it craved as its general, as the leader of its army, and so it bypassed and never noticed the one that was there to protect the young man, the one that would sell his soul for his brother, the one that finally took the gun and killed the demon, as was his fate all along. It was for this that Dean was born, to take up the sword and become the warrior against evil, the dragons, the demons and the legends that haunted mortal men. The yellow-eyed demonic being was dead, but the war was still to be won, and it would be the brothers who would keep the fight going, because that was who they were, the warriors for mankind.


End file.
